


I love your demons like devils can

by convenientmisfires



Series: Jake. [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4710008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convenientmisfires/pseuds/convenientmisfires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"After everything we've done do we even deserve to survive?" Marcus answers Abby's question. Missing scene for episode 2x13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I love your demons like devils can

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write this scene for months and it finally happened. Enjoy! Thanks to [ victorias](http://archiveofourown.org/users/victorias) for making sure I finish the things I start.

“After everything we’ve done do we even deserve to survive?”

He lets her question hang in the air dank and dusty air between them for a minute. Not quite sure she actually wants an answer or if she’s just questioning everything she’d worked so hard to protect for so long. The hardness in her voice worries him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he's shaking, knows his blood loss is bound to be critical at this point. He feels numb so he let's his mind ponder her question. He'd thought the answer was simple, and maybe for him it is, he doesn't think he deserves to survive, not after the things he's done.

But Abby.

He realizes the answer is still simple, but it’s the opposite of what he’d decided for himself. Of course Abby deserves to survive. Abby has to survive. He looks across the space between them and sees a terrifying emptiness written on her face.

“It’s not your fault, Abby.”

Confusion and then fear replace the emptiness in her eyes, but he realizes she thinks maybe he’s becoming delirious from his injuries, repeating himself and their conversation. Before she can voice her worry he keeps going.

“No, I mean floating Jake. It’s not your fault.”

She looks to brush him off at first, she’s blamed herself for so long, and everyone else blamed her too, of course she would think she’s the reason her husband is dead. So he keeps going, if he’s going to die down here, he’s going to make sure she doesn’t follow him.

“Abby, you didn’t kill him. It wasn’t your fault.” His breathing is labored, he knows he doesn't have much time.

“Marcus, what are you--”

He can hear the emotion in her voice, knows she’s crying. It’s getting harder to see her, the edges of his vision are going fuzzy and dark.

“We all have sins to answer for Abby, but you can’t--” he pauses trying to catch his breath. “You can’t blame yourself for that one. Jake would’ve been floated anyway. Jaha and I--” it’s getting harder and harder to breathe, “the council. It just happened faster, Abby. He knew,  he had to know. You were trying to save him.  Save all of us.”

He thinks maybe, if he’d let her, she’d have saved him too, saved his soul.

He can’t see her anymore, just the pinprick of light from the flashlight in her hand, everything feels so heavy, and a deafening silence fills his head. He’s so exhausted, tired of fighting, tired of running. He thinks he hears her, calling his name, but she sounds so far away. As he slips further into the darkness, a warmth covers him and he thinks that if his last moments were spent with Abby he might just be okay. 

* * *

When he comes to, several hours later in medical and realizes he is, in fact, not dead, she’s right there, holding his hand.

“Abby.”

She lifts her head at the sound of his voice, and the look she gives him is almost overwhelming, filled with kindness, gratitude, and something else he can’t identify, something that feels exciting and dangerous. She hands him a cup of water and immediately takes his hand in hers again, pressing her lips to the back of it, not quite in a kiss, more like she’s breathing him in.

“Abby, the answer is yes. We have to survive. We can’t--” his breathing is still labored and later she’ll tell him it’s because his ribs are badly bruised. “We can’t do better if we aren’t here, if you aren’t here to--”

“Shh, Marcus, it’s okay.”

He leans back, still very tired. She watches him carefully, like he’s something valuable.

“Thank you,” she says it quietly and he isn’t sure what she’s thanking him for, but he squeezes her hand in return.

“Thank you, for not giving up on me.” She smiles at him then and he feels, for the first time, that maybe life can be about more than just surviving.

“We’re going to be okay.” She says it over and over, quietly as he falls back to sleep, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, she’s right.


End file.
